


Hold on

by Elyssa_delle_stelle_gelate



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, wounded herald
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:47:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22988851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyssa_delle_stelle_gelate/pseuds/Elyssa_delle_stelle_gelate
Summary: It is just something that I wrote when I was in a really bad mood a couple of years ago. Now I decided to post it. It features my Inquisitor after the battle of Haven (or perhaps any other battle - feel free to imagine any that went slightly awry). She is the same as in my other fic (that is stubborn cutie xD) but the timeline does not quite match so I decided not to put these two works in a series.So yeah, a tiny little something to read when feeling angsty -ish.Enjoy!
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Cullen Rutherford
Kudos: 10





	Hold on

“Inquisitor! Hold on. You have to stay awake!” she felt strong arms close around her as he caught her from falling. Voice soft, but traces of panic still audible in it. The mage let out a slight chuckle and winced in pain immediately. Every move hurt like hell. All while his voice begged her to open her eyes. To stay conscious. Her heavy lids flickered, revealing the bloodshed eyes underneath them, but her hands refused to follow her orders. _The mighty inquisitor_ she thought, smiling bitterly to herself, unable even to touch the man who was holding her, to comfort him.

He doesn’t hate her he says. Quite the contrary. But she knows this already, she knew it for months. Ever since he whispered those fevered words in her ear when they were in his bed. And yet he feels that telling her that he never actually hated her is way more important than telling her that he’s in love, completely, madly, in love with this mage. She’s infuriating and still he can’t change the way he feels. Won’t even try to. His very existence proves him to be wrong, him, a Templar, in love with an apostate. And yet he cannot deny himself. So, he keeps soothing her, telling her how much he cares, how angry he is with her in that exact moment, how she would not even dare to leave him here all alone. He says all of that, says so much and so little at the same time, and yet he never quite gets quiet, as if his voice is the only thing that can prevent these nasty wounds across her torso from spilling more blood.

“Elysse...”

He only ever used her name to catch her attention towards something terribly important. No matter if it was to shut her up or to prevent her from sending an electric bolt through some annoying Orlesian. But now, now his voice was so soft, so tender, almost a prayer to her with no other words but her name, “you have to stay with us. You have to. Stay with me...”.

She felt herself fading, unable to hold on to reality any longer as he begged her to.

“Elysse...”

There’s not much else he can do but to hold the wounded mage, perhaps trying to comfort himself more than her. And the aid seems to take forever to get to them.

When it finally does, he refuses the healers to use stretchers and carries the Inquisitor himself. Her body growing heavier with each step and he shrugs away the unnerving question if it’s her fading away completely or just him, simply too tired after the battle. He cannot afford to think the former else he himself will collapse on his knees and let the snow bury them both right then and there. No. It’s just him. The battle was, after all, tough.


End file.
